i want you to tell me your dreams and your deepest inhibition
like curious lace from antique grandmothers chests
you vary in patterns
but all the same the delicacy is returned.
it eludes me to imagine you with so much loss of colour
and slightly frayed at the sides
can you reconstruct it with a bit of thread,
its been around so long we've forgotten what it looked like laying on the table
with candles and good smells all around
you've soaked in those smells magnificent and soaked in the wine
that was spilt on you so many times
really you are just an ornament from far away
little notice
their minds float astray
but to me you hold the memory of so much
and when i trace my fingers on you i remember clambering down the stairs
to see you underneath that tree
and how shy i was to approach you and stroke your delicate features,
those eyes that bore into mine
but i was too young to appreciate what lay in front of me now
now we are old and we swim in different lakes,
you dont notice me when i walk by
no matter what colour heels im wearing
your wearing a different colour than when you were first made
youve turned into cotton
spun into a comfortable old t shirt
that i can no longer find.